


Every Little Thing (Help Me I’m Lost)

by Sheepgirl3



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Adopted Peter Parker, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Amputee Bucky Barnes, Artist Steve Rogers, Bisexual Clint Barton, Bisexual Maria Rambeau, Bisexual Scott Lang, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Desperate Bucky, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Gay Bucky Barnes, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Lesbian Carol Danvers, M/M, Malnutrition, Memory Loss, Monogamy, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamory, Rating might change-maybe not, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Teen Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, War Veteran Bucky Barnes, homeless!bucky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:01:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24130246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheepgirl3/pseuds/Sheepgirl3
Summary: Two years ago, Bucky Barnes was rescued from Hydra, a terrorist group that had taken him-an Army Sergeant-captive. A year and a half ago, Bucky Barnes was discharged from hospital with no arm and no memory of anything before Hydra. A year ago, Bucky Barnes was kicked out of his apartment and landed on the streets.He’s lived there ever since. His only companions are his nightmares and a vague memory of beautiful blue eyes and blond hair. He is slowly starving to death, and exposure is speeding up the process.Then, deep in the winter, a random act of kindness from strangers changes everything for Bucky.(Or the author has no idea why she’s starting yet another story with too many in progress already, but here you go.)
Relationships: Carol Danvers/Maria Rambeau/James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Clint Barton/Scott Lang/Hope Van Dyne, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov/Sam Wilson, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Comments: 29
Kudos: 64





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Why am I starting this....
> 
> No promises on when updates will be, but enjoy please! Hit the kudos button and leave a comment please, it makes my day!

Bucky woke with a silent scream, unable to know the words that would’ve come out of his mouth, but the terror of his nightmare still haunting him. 

Still shaking, both from the cold and the nightmare, he sat up and looked around, pleased that his alleyway was still deserted and that he hadn’t made a fool of himself yet again. Head still pounding and limbs shaky, Bucky ran his hand through his hair and rested his head between his knees.

It’d been a year since he’d been forced out on the streets. A year and six months since he’d been released from the army hospital, with PTSD and no memory of his life before the army. Two years since he’d been rescued from Hydra, the terrorist and extremist group that had captured him and tortured him for seven months. It was because of them he had no memories whatsoever, and no left arm.

The lack of memory was haunting, but more so because every night he saw the same face in his dreams, a face that he knew the name to-somewhere inside-but couldn’t say. A man’s face, with beautiful blue eyes and blond hair. For the life of him, Bucky could not remember who he was.

Bucky lifted his head and began to pull himself to his feet. He had to get moving before the cops chased him out. Besides, he hadn’t eaten in three days. If he didn’t find a good strip of sidewalk soon, all the morning traffic would gone and any chance he had of getting enough breakfast. 

He didn’t have many belongings at all. A thin bedroll, a few various knickknacks from his old apartment, his Purple Heart and a few other awards, his dogtags and old uniform, and a picture he knew to be of his family but had no memory of. This all was stuffed into a battered backpack and slung onto Bucky’s good shoulder. He put on his army baseball cap and headed out, determined not to waste any more time.

He found a nice patch of sidewalk next to a open alley and sat there with his hat on the ground, holding a sign which read, “I’m a veteran, and I’m hungry. Anything helps, please.” He settled back to wait, scanning the morning traffic.

Bucky couldn’t have told you how many people walked by, but he could tell you exactly how much money he got. A penny, a whole penny. Bucky wanted to cry. Every time he searched dumpsters he got violently sick, but he was starving. Wrapping his thin jacket tighter around himself, Bucky shrunk further in on himself and kept an eye out around him. He wasn’t sure if technically he was allowed to be panhandling here and he really didn’t want to forced out by the cops, again.

As the morning traffic slowed, Bucky began mentally calculating how much longer he’d last like this. He hadn’t eaten in three days, and even then had only been given a cheeseburger by a passing bystander. It had been nearly a week before then. Water was hard to come by, and it was cold. Bucky’s body hadn’t gotten much chance to fully recover before he was out on the streets. Bucky grimaced realizing that his time was getting more and more limited. He may have survived Hydra-and he’d gone without many of those necessities like food and water for a while-but they had wanted him alive. Here, no one cared.

Bucky saw out of the corner of his eye a group of people walking towards him. They were laughing and talking together, bundled up warmly and with actual shoes on their feet. Bucky glanced at his own shoes, which were mostly holes in worn fabric by this point. He heard one of the men say something about freezing and could they please go somewhere warm, and he poked his big toe absently. 

The group was right in front of him now and he glanced up, scrutinizing them. The man that had told his companions that he was freezing reeked of money, from his expensive clothes to the watch he wore, and the way he carried himself.

The others were two women and a lean black man. One woman had strawberry blond hair and an attractive face. The rich man kept whining at her, calling her Pepper. The other woman had long dark hair and sharp facial lines. The other man called her Hope, pointing out a bakery nearby that he probably wanted to go to. The black man seemed rather ordinary at first, but on closer look Bucky saw the way he was walking. He bet the guy had at least one prosthetic leg.

Bucky observed this all as they got closer and closer to him. At first it looked like they would walk straight past him like so many had before them, but the rich guy turned his head and spotted Bucky. He stopped immediately and his group was forced to as well.

Bucky wanted to hide from their gazes, even though it didn’t seem from the surface that any were looking at him with disgust. That was surprising enough, but what was even more so was that the rich guy pulled out his wallet and pulled out several bills, bending down to put them in Bucky’s hat.

There were at least five bills there, each a twenty or a fifty. Bucky looked up in disbelief, but the man had already put his wallet away. Rich Guy gestured to the sign and said sincerely, “Thank you for serving.”

In all Bucky’s time in the army and out of it, no one had ever thanked him for serving. He knew he must look dumbfounded, but the man just had a small uptick to his lips.

Then the dark-skinned man opened up his own wallet and pulled out a couple twenties to place in the hat as well, saying as he stood, “Thanks man. For everything.” Bucky had a feeling that this guy could see way past the serving part, to the scars that lay underneath. And of course, no arm was obvious.

The dark haired woman also gave him money and thanked him for his service, but the other woman disappeared inside the bakery for a bit. Then she came out with a rather large bag and handed it to him with a smile.

Bucky opened it hesitantly to find many pastries and various different baked goods in there. The smell was overwhelming, as was the generosity, and he looked up with tears in his eyes. Everyone was standing there, smiling at him, and Bucky swallowed past the lump in his throat.

“Thank you.” His voice sounded rough and hoarse. But the group still smiled at him the same.

They left, but Bucky barely noticed as he tore into a fluffy pastry. The veteran knew that he was probably crying from relief as he ate, but he didn’t care. He’d survive a little longer, thanks to the generosity of these people. People who had taken time to give him the money that they had and he didn’t, who’d noticed the one armed, frail ex soldier huddled on the sidewalk.

They’d bought him time. Bucky would never forget it.


	2. Too cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short, but important.

The strangers’ help had kept him going for a while longer, but ultimately, he knew he was shutting down.

It was mid January, and according the radio he’d heard in a car going by, it was one of the coldest winters in the last decade. It was a struggle for Bucky to keep out of the wind, and no matter what he did he still couldn’t quite escape from the temperatures. The shelters were full, even if he did want to risk all his things being taken.

Bucky had saved a fifty from the money the kind strangers had given him, but short of food for a week or so, it wouldn’t do much. The more Bucky was out in the cold, the more he just waited for the end to come.

It was probably about a month or so after the strangers had helped him, now deep in the heart of January, when he saw the strangers again. He was huddled in an alleyway, out of sight of anyone who might want to chase him out, when he heard their voices. Peeking out just enough, he saw them peering into the alley.

“He was around here, right?”

“Yeah, right next to that little bakery over there. Maybe he was driven off?”

“Maybe, but I saw him just the other day. If I hadn’t been in a hurry, I would’ve sought him out then.”

Bucky could only assume they were looking for him, but he was too cold and tired to deal with them. Why would they be looking for him?

“I’m just going to leave this here. If he doesn’t find this, maybe someone who could use it will.”

Bucky waited until they’d left to peek out again. It was a bag of fast food, filled to the brim and warm. Appetite restored for the first time in over a week, Bucky pawed hungrily through, registering that they must have brought from several different food places as it was all different. He found a box of Chick-Fil-A nuggets and tore into them eagerly. They tasted warm and familiar, a tendril from his past life that he couldn’t remember.

He was just looking through the rest of the food when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. As he turned, he saw a booted foot heading towards his head. There was an explosion of pain throughout his skull, then nothing.

Bucky woke up unable to see much of anything. Half of it was probably the splitting pain in his head. The rest was because he could only see white in front of him. In his pain, it took a few minutes for him to realize that it was snowing-hard.

He shakily pulled himself to his feet, moving forward blindly. Something he never would’ve done if he’d been in his right mind, but he was too hazy with pain. He tripped and fell onto something hard, proceeding to pull himself forward with one hand.

There was a squealing sound right next to him, and Bucky looked up enough to see bright lights pierce through the snow and hurt his eyes. He barely registered someone running towards him until that person was lifting him up. He wasn’t standing, someone was carrying him. That was nice. He couldn’t remember if he’d ever been carried.

The person was saying something, but he simply relaxed further into the person’s arms, wondering if he could go to sleep. Something wet and warm was trickling into his eye.

He was suddenly surrounded by warmth after being jostled, laid down on something smooth and comfy. Then a deep, startled voice exclaimed, “Bucky?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments make my day!
> 
> If you’re on Amino, please join my Marvel Fanfiction Amino or Bucky Barnes: New Hope. 
> 
> DO NOT COPY ANYTHING FROM MY WORK.


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